


10 things i sort of dislike about you (because hate is a strong word reserved only for assholes; which you are not)

by shortitude



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 10 Things I Hate About You AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Comedy with Serious Themes, F/M, Homophobia, Indra/Callie (Minor), Loss of Parent(s), Mentions of childhood abuse, More tags to be added as we go, Nathan Miller/Ryan (Minor), alcoholic parent, not friendly towards Murphy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-13 05:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7963693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortitude/pseuds/shortitude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desperate to be crowned queen of the cool kids by her next high school year, Octavia Blake starts off on a mission to get herself invited to prom. The problem? She can't date until her hermit of a big brother does. Fortunately, she is a woman with a plan. </p><p>Unfortunately, that plan doesn't come with deep pockets. </p><p>(10 Things I Hate About You AU: Bellamy x Raven edition.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in fair verona, where we lay our scene (except it's neither fair, nor verona, nor romeo and juliet)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is probably unnecessary. But I was roped into rewatching the movie, and a reinterpretation of a reinterpretation of a Shakespeare comedy with Raven and Bellamy as the main characters was all that I could think of, so without further ado, have a modern au romcom. Emphasis on 'com'.

As far as jobs go, being the principal of a high school is on the list of satisfying ones for Indra. Certainly, there are hard days and there are good days, but the idea of shaping the minds of the future is a fulfilling one to her. Usually.

“So, just to get this straight,” she says, reading off a detention slip with the driest voice possible in her vocal range, “You got sent here because you’re a mouthy miscreant who takes sadistic pleasure in putting the authority figures on the spot through unnecessary corrections?”

In the seat across the desk from her, Bellamy Blake rolls his eyes behind his glasses. Glasses like those would’ve gotten Indra bullied for being a nerd when she’d been his age, but for some reason people _fear_ Bellamy, despite him being a gigantic nerd. Maybe it’s a remnant from his time as the most popular boy in school, or maybe it’s just that he’s tall. Tall people seem to get far, Indra has noticed; her wife is a good example of it, but this isn’t the time to think about her wife.

“I don’t see how pointing out that Columbus Day is a racist holiday that needs to _die_ is an unnecessary correction, Madam Principal,” he says, as dry a tone as hers had been. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Indra can feel a headache coming in, she really can. Having had this conversation with her partner on multiple occasions, she knows how the argument ends. She also knows that the little shit has just cornered her with that question. Because if she gives him a sermon about respecting his professors _now_ , she’ll be on the losing side. _And_ if she doesn’t give him any sort of slap on the wrist, she’ll never hear the end of it from Cage. _And_ if she gives him detention, he’ll simply think himself victorious in his peaceful activism or whatever the hell kids his age call it and _god_ , forget it. Being a principal of a high school is on the list of pain in the ass jobs.

She pinches the bridge of her nose once, sighs once, and stares him down even though he is her same height. “As much as I may or may not disagree with you on principle, _as a principal,_ ” ( _Hit them with the dad jokes, honey, that’s a good girl,_ she could practically hear Callie say. Shit.) “I can’t run anything other than a tight ship over here, Mr. Blake. So while detention would be an appropriate punishment for being a mouthy little _brat_ , I’m going to have to go with…” She looks out the window, satisfied, “A ten page essay, with references and citations, as to why exactly you are right. In your opinion.”

“History homework,” Bellamy says, giving her a _look_. “Oh no,” he adds with not a hint of suffering, “that’s gonna be such a pain.”

Indra fights hard not to smile, and waves him off. “Yeah, yeah, get out of my office, punk, I have more work to do.” He smiles, gets up, and leaves. “Stay out of trouble!” she feels inclined to shout after him. What a little shit.

Who is next? She checks her list, and groans. God, not her again.

“Alright, Ms. Reyes, _what_ did you set on fire this time?”

\--

“This year is going to be amazing,” Octavia Blake declares, loudly, bursting into Bellamy’s room and throwing her backpack onto his bed.

He stops typing for a while, and listens.

“I got asked to sit with the Alphas today, bro, things are _happening_ for me,” she explains, making Bellamy’s stomach recoil unwittingly.

The Alphas, popular kids of the school, and also _rich_ kids of the school; a group he’d known well, from the inside out, not two years ago. That was before Octavia graduated middle school and showed up on the first day of junior high year wearing a pretty dress (mom had sewn that dress, and O had looked a vision in it) and stirred up some waves within the until-then tightly knit group of popular kids. He wants to tell his sister not to get mixed up with them, but knowing O that would only make her want to do it more.

It’s fine. He’ll tell Indra about it at dinner, and subtly suggest assigning O guidance duties, like taking care of the new transfer students; his sister might have popularity somewhat in mind, but she has a soft spot for those who don’t quite fit anywhere too, and he knows she would take care of whomever was assigned to her. He’ll have to be very stealthy about it.

It’s for her own good.

He tunes into what O is saying just as he hears a name that makes his stomach sink again: “-- and then John asked if I wanted to go watch a movie with him, like, sure, as _if_ people even watch movies anymore - “

“No,” he finds himself saying, and flinches. Again, with this name, like a plague wearing him down to the bone.

“What do you mean no?”

“You’re not dating John Murphy,” he snaps. “John Murphy is a ratty little snake - “

“ _Okay_ ,” Octavia interrupts, putting her hand up to stop him from talking. She holds one finger up, “ _One_ ; that’s one weird hybrid little petting zoo you have there,” she says, and then lifts another finger, “ _Two_ , John is a perfectly okay guy when he sets his mind to it,” and another finger, and which point Bellamy begins to text Indra while listening to his sister’s diatribe half-heartedly (he’s on a mission). “ _And three_ , big brother, just because you’ve decided to give up on having a social life and become a monk doesn’t mean you get to drag the rest of us with you! You’re not dad - _and_ you’re not mom!” That one hurt like a slap. “And you have no authority.”

“No,” he said, once his nerves settle, once he catches his breath and pushes panic down, “But I know someone who does.”

“I _hate_ you!”

Octavia slams the door behind her, leaving her bag on his bed. He stares at it for a while, wondering if he should take it to her or not, but decides that after that low blow, maybe she deserves to steep for a bit and get her shit together to come get it herself. Yes.

 _You’re not mom_.

No, he’s not Aurora. Aurora wouldn’t have snapped at O (she never had), she would’ve been strict with her but reasonable. Most of all, Aurora would’ve known about Murphy being a snake, and would’ve backed Bellamy up without questioning it, but the problem here was - the problem here was, Aurora was not there anymore. But Bellamy was, and O was his responsibility, and he just had to protect her. Even if that meant making her not like him some more.

He calls Indra.

\--

Date a woman next, they’d told her. They’re uncomplicated, they’re nice and soft, and you’ll be set for life as far as great sex goes!

While Callie didn’t argue against the latter, whoever said that dating a woman after her scandalous divorce finalised would get her some peace of mind had been wrong. Indra was lovely, she was; they’d clicked right away, turning a casual rebound fling into Callie’s second marriage, but it wasn’t without hardships. Neither of them had planned on kids, but when an unforgiving disease took Callie’s childhood friend away and left her two children alone in the world, they’d stepped up to claim responsibility.

She likes to think that neither of them regret it.

But then dinner happens.

Dinner is a tense affair tonight, and it’s not because of the usual reasons. She’s managed to make everyone sit down for this one, and finish the entire casserole so nothing goes to waste. She’s heard about Indra having had to dole out some detention to Bellamy this morning, but he doesn’t seem upset about it at all; he even grins and declares he’s halfway done, _Madam Principal_. She has managed to make Octavia leave her phone away from the table, even. It shouldn’t be this tense at the dinner table tonight, but it is, and she knows that means there’s a storm coming.

As it happens usually when storm clouds gather, there comes a moment when thunder echoes in the distance -- Octavia brings up the name of a boy -- and the storm erupts -- Indra cuts her off with a _no_.

“ _Why_ no?” the youngest Blake asks, a whine in her tone.

“Because,” Callie’s wonderful wife says, without knowing what tragedy she’s asking for, “you’re too young.”

Well, there goes dinner. Calmly, she puts her fork down, wipes her mouth with a napkin, counts to four, _and_ :

“Callie, please, you’re the reasonable and cool one,” Octavia turns to her.

Across the table from her, she watches Indra’s face fall, her mouth shape the words silently, _I’m cool too_. She smiles at her, hoping for reassurance, then turns to Octavia.

“Go on.”

The girl hesitates, and then clears her throat. Someone’s learned the lesson by now: when dealing with Callie, facts prime over emotions. “Bellamy was dating when he was my age and nobody called him out on being young.”

What doesn’t work is throwing your sibling under the wheels of the bus.

“I’m sure your mother did,” she tells Octavia, calmly. Of course Aurora would’ve; she’d had her own story about dating while too young, and Bellamy had been the result of that, but it was never the time nor place to make the child feel bad over that. Octavia lets out an _ugh_ , and Callie clears her throat. “Octavia, honey, whether you like it or not, you are still only fifteen. Right now is the time to focus on other things, like grades and getting your driver’s license in spring. When you are older, you will reflect on these years as ones when you were too young to possibly known what...you…” Across the table, Indra is staring at her with wide eyes and panic in her face, shaking her head slowly and mouthing _no_ , but Callie is already saying the word: “...want.”

“This is _tyranny_ ,” hisses Octavia, pushing her chair back when she sat up, with a loud and melodramatic clatter that fit her mood.

Well, shit, thinks Callie.

Indra interferes, “Listen, how about we make a deal.” Octavia turns to her. “You can date,” says the woman, “ _If_ he does it first.” She points at Bellamy, who is unassumingly drinking his water. Octavia sits down with a huff.

“I thought you two were gonna be _cool_ foster moms, but I see that it’s gonna be like that instead.”

Indra smiles at the young girl. “That’s nice, sweetheart. Pass the salt.”

 _Please_ , mouths Callie.

“ _Please_ ,” Indra adds.

\--

“I need a plan, or I am never gonna go to prom before I’m a senior, and that’s how you become a queen bee. What do you think?”

“I literally just transferred here today,” Lincoln says to the girl that the principal of the school has introduced to him as his go-to person to adapt to the comings and goings of Arkadia High. Sure, why not.

“Right, sorry,” she has the decency to say, and grabs him by the arm to lead him into the courtyard. “I know the typical thing here would be to say that the school gets divided into cliques, but it’s no longer the nineties so...as long as you’re not a complete asshole, you can usually hang out with everyone. _If_ you’re a complete asshole, then you get to hang out with the other complete assholes, _they’re_ a clique,” Octavia Blake jokes, throwing him a grin that has Lincoln thrown for a loop.

He recovers and clears his throat. “I don’t think that clique applies.”

“ _Good_!” the girl says, and grins. “So you can help me with the plan.”

“What plan?”

“To get my brother a date.”

“Why?”

“So I can get a date.”

“Why?”

“So I can take over the school next year and get voted class president and hopefully change the whole dynamic of the alpha versus beta gangs - _look_ , it’s for a good cause, okay?” she snaps, shaking him a little bit by the shoulder. “You’re a senior.”

“Yes.”

“So you won’t care what the school mood will be like once you graduate, right? You’ll be on your merry way to college or a temp job or a vocational job or whatever, and the rest of us will be left here to suffer through another two years of the overused high school clique trope.” She pauses for breath, and Lincoln waits. “The cool kids are an old gang, and the big deals are all graduating this year too, which means they’ll leave heirs. _I_ want to be the first one they pick, so when they’re gone, I can take over and leave no trace of the pyramidal structure behind me, so when I get voted as Senator, everyone remembers I got into politics young.”

Lincoln’s head hurts, but he’s also strangely endeared. He imagines that’s the reaction Octavia is used to getting from everyone.

“Also, I really wanna date,” she adds, in a rush, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t care what Callie says, I’m at the age where I should get to experience the fluttering of the first crush and pain of the first love.”

He has no idea who Callie is, but denying her that seems rude. Somehow. “So why don’t you? Date, I mean.”

“Because Bellamy has to date someone first.”

“And why doesn’t he?”

“Because he’s a _weirdo_ who only gets hard over history?” Lincoln awkwardly clears his throat while Octavia rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, because he says he’s above that, outgrown it, doesn’t care, _whatever_. But I’m gonna find him a date.”

That doesn’t sound like the most respectful thing to do to one’s older brother, but what does he know, he doesn’t have one. Also, Octavia is really pretty, in a sharp knife kind of way. Do people notice that? Probably.

“The problem is,” she adds, perfectly comfortable being the only one talking here, “that no girl seems to want to date him. I’d know, I’ve held auditions,” she mutters under her breath.

“Why won’t they?”

“Hm?” She notices he’s there again, and smiles beatifically at him. “I dunno. I tried to ask but they all pretended they had better things to do and ran, so I’m guessing someone spread a rumour that he’s got a small dick or something.” She shrugs, and again, Lincoln tries to awkwardly clear his throat.

“Too bad I can’t pay someone to do it,” she murmurs, looking off into the distance.

Below them on the football field, a girl and a boy and carrying a large metal container. From this far above, it’s hard to see exactly what the girl does to the container once they set it down, but a few seconds later, a large _BOOM_ makes everyone in the courtyard rush over to watch as a geizer erupts from the container and soaks the football field in Coke and Menthos.

Over the loudspeakers, Lincoln hears the principal’s voice enunciate each word like a tiny explosion of its own: “ _Miss. Reyes. My. Office. Now._ ”

Next to him, Octavia grabs onto his arm again, fingernails digging into skin, and turns towards him with a large grin. “ _I have a plan._ ”

Somehow, this all doesn’t bode well for Lincoln, who only wanted to finish this year going by unnoticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VALIDATE ME WITH A COMMENT I haven't written multichapter in years and I'm scared.


	2. did lincoln ever get to go to art class? (probably not)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need a surname for the Indra&Callie marriage, because not using it is becoming tedious. I'll take suggestions in your comments! Also, fair warning for references to a lot of sexist behavior, though none of it should be triggery.

Covering the football field in foam and ending up in the principal’s office with your legal guardian _will_ put a damper on anyone’s day, really. Jacapo has to take the afternoon off to come answer for Raven’s crime, but there’s some measure of relief to be found in the fact that Monty is going in second because he’s still waiting for his mother to show up. Her uncle gives her an exasperated look when he crosses the threshold into the principal’s office, and when she meets it with a guiltless grin, he sighs. . 

In her own defense, aside from the scolding that’s bound to come her way, and the administrative slap on the wrist, she should be praised. Not only has she gotten payback for the Women’s Football Team being discriminated against when it came to practice times, but she’s also stuck it to coach Wick, who has been systematically pissing her off since the start of the year with his little comments about how girls could not play ball like the guys could. His behaviour, sexist as hell she might add, has likely cost girls like Harper and Monroe their chance at being drafted for a scholarship in two years, except in his opinion _they don’t even hand out scholarships for that unless you’re a cheerleader, honey_. And sure, it’s fine that she can’t play anymore, but they’re delusional if they think that she won’t continue sticking up for her girls.

Which is exactly what she’s going to tell the principal, as soon as everyone is in the room and sitting down. Unlike the ones she usually starts during chem class, this proverbial fire _was_ entirely and utterly on purpose. 

“It was all my fault, Monty was just passing by and I asked him to help me carry the container,” she rushes to say, before the principal has a chance to open her mouth. “So you can let him go.” And it’s not a lie; it’s not a total lie anyway. Monty did have to help her carry the container, because fifteen bottles of Coke weigh a whole fucking lot and her knee isn’t what it used to be, even if the rest of her musculature insists on staying in shape. No well-informed principal would ignore this or think it a lie.

The school principal looks down and massages her temples, as if trying very hard not to say what she’s been thinking all year long: _god, you’re such a pain_. 

Right. So it’s going to be a long meeting.

\--

Uncle Jacapo waits until they exit the building to speak. On the way out, they hear the principal excuse herself with Mrs. Green, and tell Monty to be careful of the friends he keeps; that’s one friendship that’s going to become forbidden starting tomorrow, she can tell. 

On the bright side, she didn’t get expelled, and provided that she cleans up the field on her own until tomorrow’s practice in the morning, she won’t have anything on her record either. The principal _was_ more understanding when Raven brought up the sexist remarks that had motivated this elaborate prank. It’s the bright side because while girls on the team, like Harper and Monroe, will still have to battle against assholes in the years to come, she won’t. At least she has the scholarship based on academic promise going for her. And her savings. 

If she adds some full-time work in Jacapo’s garage during the summer, she might be able to end up affording half of her tuition for her first year and all. After that, she’ll see. 

“What were you thinking?” her uncle explodes ahead of time, when they’re still a way away from her car. A few students in the courtyard turn around at the snap. “Starting this during school hours? In front of everyone?”

“It wasn’t about not being caught, it was about _making a statement_ ,” Raven grouses, and gets her car keys out of her backpack, so she can throw it in the backseat of her car and get back to the field and clean it up. (This is going to be a pain on her knee, but it’ll also be fucking worth it.) 

“I don’t think you know how lucky you are that this is all the punishment you got, young lady,” says her father figure, and the only family member who has actually given a fuck about her - even though he’s not, you know, her actual family. 

“I’m gonna be cleaning that field the whole night, you didn’t see the foam,” she says, unable to stop her half grin. The grass is going to be dyed pink, there’s also that; she added a special dye in the Coke, but nobody needs to know that until tomorrow morning. 

Jacapo puts his hands on her shoulders, making her stop. _Here comes the lecture_. The one she got from the principal, she can take; Sinclair’s disapproval is a whole other story. “You are an incredibly difficult young lady to handle,” he says, and Raven’s heart _sinks_ , old fears surging up to the surface in seconds. Then, the oddest thing: Jacapo smiles, and squeezes her shoulders, “And I’m incredibly proud.” 

“Really?” she chokes out, softly.

“Really. But you’re still on your own cleaning that field.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

\--

The next morning, after coming up with the most effective plan to social climb in record time, Octavia arrives at school to find out that the football field has been dyed pink. All that this gets out of Bellamy is a soft snort, which proves he might be closer to becoming a robot that she feared; but it also makes Octavia convinced that she’s chosen the right sucker for this job. 

And it _will_ be a job. She’s had to go into her savings, the money sock under her mattress _and_ her allowance money until this date, but she’s going to make this be as much of a serious, professional, honest business transaction as possible. 

People pay other people to date their friends all the time, right, it’s no big deal? In fact, given how she’s going to do this for her brother, blood of her blood, _flesh of her flesh_ , she should be even more praised. 

“Coach Wick is gonna have an aneurysm,” murmurs Bellamy as they get out of the car, the parking lot overlooking the giant pink-dyed football field. 

Octavia lifts her shoulders in nonchalance. “I don’t know, that’s the sort of field I _wouldn’t_ mind playing football on.”

Her brother lets out a snort. “You? In a game that allows full-body tackles?” He rolls his eyes and grabs his bag. “Lord save us all.”

He _so so so_ doesn’t deserve the huge favour she’s about to do him. He does not deserve having the best sister, who only looks out for his own good, really.

“Whatever,” she snaps, remembering that she’s mad at him for putting her in this position of having to give away her hard-earned gift money, and starts walking to class. Alone.

_Whatever_. 

On the way there, she stops to have a drink of water, and overhears a conversation between three girls the likes of a scene straight out of Mean Girls. 

“I love your skirt,” says one girl.

“Oh! Thanks!” says the other girl, and Octavia thinks, _Oh good, women sticking up for other women._

When she lifts her head up from the water fountain, she spots a student she doesn’t know walking away from Clarke Griffin, who leans into her friend, Lexa (whose name Octavia knows because you gotta know everyone in this school), and whispers:

“That skirt’s an artistic catastrophe, right?” 

The girls laugh, managing to further remind Octavia that she’s doing this for a good cause. Come next year, there will be no more Griffin and the Alphas, it’ll be her turn. She will dismantle the hierarchy. Down with monarchy! _Revolution_. 

First, though, she needs to see a dangerous girl about dating her brother. 

She spots a familiar face down the hallway and starts running, waving at him with a smile. “Lincoln! Just the man I wanted to see! Come, we have a plan to set into motion.”

“I just -- wanted to get to Art class?” Lincoln says, as Octavia wraps her hand around his biceps and pulls him down the hallway in an opposite direction of Art class. 

“Oh, trust me, what you’re about to witness is so devious, it’s art! You’ll thank me later.”

\--

Raven loves feeling like she’s won an argument. 

It makes having the skin of her hands dyed pink for the following days much, much more worth it. She also loves getting away with the _real_ crime here, because the foamy mess was just the tip of the iceberg; the dye will take a few rainy days to wash off, but at least the mixture she used is harmless to the actual soil (because she has a heart). The principal’s office absolutely buys into her straight-faced lie about it being some sort of reaction to the chemicals in the soap she used to scrape off the foam from the field. Meanwhile, the male football team of fragile masculinity is just going to have to train on pink grass, or not at all.

So she feels pretty great, for someone who spent all evening shovelling foam off a football field and washing it clean. 

Her knee is a pain today, making her limp a little more obvious, but everyone is staring at her arms, and the Women’s Football Team just shoved about ten thank you notes inside her locker, some of them with her name surrounded by hearts. All in all? She’s still thinking it was worth it. 

It’ll be a shame she’ll miss Wick’s ratty mug when he brings his team onto the field this morning and finds her masterpiece, but she has a pretty good imagination, so there’s that. 

Since she doesn’t believe in that cliché that says you shouldn’t get ahead of yourself or life’s gonna laugh at you, she’ll say it: today will be a good day. 

“Wow, that looks hard.” 

Raven looks up from her book to see Octavia Blake standing in front of her desk. Now, this is weird for reasons: first, Octavia is two years younger than her, so what’s she doing in her Advanced AP Algebra class? Second, what is the new guy doing standing beside her, doesn’t he go to Art or something? She’s pretty sure this elective consists of basically her and Nate, at this point, so this is all very confusing. 

“Nah,” she starts, “it’s just rocket science.”

“...right.” Octavia gives her a grin, reminding Raven that she’s always thought the girl resembled a squirrel, a little bit. Today, however, she looks like a rabid squirrel, all shifty. 

“ _What_?” she snaps, because a glance towards the clock lets her know that the professor’s about to come in, and Raven has questions about the problems she was assigned. It’s not every day that this professor in particular shows up in school. Given that she teaches at a prestigious damn university and only drops by once every two weeks to consult with the two promising future applicants, she’ll be damned if she misses the chance to ask all of her questions because of Blake junior. 

“I want you to date my brother,” the girl says, in a rush. 

Nate walks into the classroom at that exact moment, and doubles over laughing. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Raven repeats. 

It’s not that she doesn’t know who Bellamy Blake is, everyone knows. Two years ago, he used to be one of the popular kids, hanging out with Clarke and Wells and the lot, but then something happened and that group shunned him, or he shunned himself, and all she knows is that he loves stirring shit in History class. It’s a shame she misses it, of course, but eugh - History class. She _knows_ who Bellamy is, even if they’ve never actually interacted, but the point is that she’s not sure what brings Octavia here, asking her this. 

She’s pretty sure Bellamy can find himself a beard on his own -- if he really is that adamant on being stuck in the past century -- without needing his sister to set things up. 

“I wanna date, Raven,” Octavia whines, taking way too many liberties with the familiarity between them over there for a moment. 

She notices Nate doesn’t so much stop laughing as he gets better at hiding it behind his open book, which he covers his head with. 

“Flattering,” Raven murmurs, frankly shocked. 

“Not _you_ ,” Octavia rushes to correct. 

“ _Not_ flattering, then,” Raven concludes. 

“Raven, _please_.” Octavia pulls up a chair and sits across from her, while the new guy stands, looking as uncomfortable to be here as Raven feels. Nate’s the only person in this classroom having fun. “I can’t date until my brother does, and I don’t think he’ll ever date, and no other girl in this school would say yes, so you’re my only hope.”

_Help me, Obi-Wan_ , Raven adds mentally, and then raises her eyebrow like she’s not at all impressed. “So who’s he, the guy you wanna date?” she asks, nodding towards the new guy who actually blushes, precious thing. 

“What, Lincoln? No! No, no,” Octavia says, then laughs, “He’s just...emotional support.” 

Raven looks down at Octavia again. This is rich. Nate has begun to choke with giggles. “I’m sorry, are you _scared_ of me?”

“You turned the football field pink,” Octavia says as way of explanation, solemnly, while touching her hair. As if she fears possible retribution. She rushes to add, “I can pay you.” 

Nate falls out of his chair with a loud cackle. Raven throws her notebook at him, before turning around to pin Octavia with a serious glare. 

“ _That_ doesn’t help.” The fact of the matter is that she has nothing against the concept of being paid for services rendered, it’s just that no girl in her right mind would go through with the ruse of taking out the closeted gay guy on a date. She has standards.

“Fifty bucks a date,” the girl says, and Raven does a double-take. Fifty bucks for taking a guy out for juice? Not only is that good money, but she could possibly teach this girl a lesson about being too damn nosy in her brother’s love life, and not being smart enough to just sneak around behind her parents’ backs like a regular teenager would instead. “Please,” Octavia breathes out. “It’s for a good cause. I’m not talking Bellamy here, I’m talking the social division of this school in the following years, Raven Reyes, _please_.” 

_Jesus_. 

“Please do it,” Nate whispers, from where he’s still laughing on the floor, “That was comedy gold, the kid deserves that much.” 

Yes. Also, fifty bucks. Enough to recover the money she spent on Coke for the prank on Wick, which will make her feel less guilty about putting herself in economical turmoil for the sake of social justice. 

Somewhere down in hell, her mother is probably having a laugh, too. 

“Maybe,” Raven says. 

Octavia grins widely, makes a move to hug her, and then changes her mind and recoils. 

“Honey, what are you doing here?” comes the professor’s voice from the doorway, interrupting them right on time. Octavia’s face grows pale, as she whirls around and lets out a tiny laugh. 

“Hi! Callie! I was just - um - tutoring. Asking for it. From Raven? Wait, what are _you_ doing here?”

“Teaching,” the woman says, amused. “To my most promising students, who are looking very floored by your presence, I see, Mister Miller?” 

Nate gets up from the floor. 

“I didn’t know you wanted math tutoring, Octavia,” Callie murmurs, “You could have said.”

“You’re busy enough!” Octavia rushes to say, grabbing Lincoln by the arm and rushing towards the exit, “And anyway, Raven already agreed, right? I’ll talk to you after class, Raven, bye!”

And they’re gone. 

Raven stares after them for a few seconds, and wonders to herself why the hell she agreed to go through with this. She’s sure she’d meant to say no. 

\--

It’s not until lunchtime that she gets to see Octavia Blake again, and when she does it’s from her peripheral vision, and because someone sitting at the table behind her whistles under their breath.

Raven’s head snaps up, and the looks over her shoulder with a glare ready for whomever is pulling that shit, in this day and age and in front of her, and finds herself face to face with John Murphy’s sickly sweet smile. Directed at Octavia, who has either not noticed or chosen to ignore him like a smart girl. 

_Ugh_. Such a headache. 

If what Octavia told her is true, then what Raven _should_ do here would be to just go up to her brother, tell him his sister’s a sneaky little shit, wash her hands clean of the Blake family drama, and retreat. And give the twenty-five dollars she found tucked inside a pink slip inside her locker back. (That’s the girl’s allowance money, okay? She feels bad.)

Because, if what Octavia told her is true, then if she manages to somehow get Bellamy Blake to go on a date with her, Octavia would have full freedom to take creeps like Murphy out, and the guy is practically salivating over there. It’s not her problem, of course, but come on.

It’s just gross. He’s just gross. 

Put off her lunch, she gives up and gets up from the table. Today she is eating alone, so it’s easier for her to switch tables, only of course Bellamy doesn’t eat lunch in the cafeteria courtyard, because he’s special and peculiar and a pain in the ass. 

She takes almost half an hour to find him, and finds him on the bleachers, reading and taking notes while eating a sandwich. There’s a slight breeze that makes his unruly curls tremble and get in his eyes, and she finds herself pausing for a second, mesmerized by the way he brushes his hair out of the way, pushes his nerdy glasses up on his nose, and licks his thumb to turn the page. 

See? Already a pain. She needs to get rid of this whole mess now.

“This seat taken?” she says, taking as seat on the long bench beside him. 

“Um,” he says, blinking up at her in confusion. 

“Hi. Raven Reyes.” 

“I know who you are.” 

She smiles. Well, then. “That’s convenient. We need to talk about your sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR THE VALIDATION!! (Do it again 8D)


	3. saved under 'scheming little shit'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wanted Bellamy and Raven interaction? Here's a whole chapter of it.  
>  **NOTE:** This fic now contains **MILLER/RYAN.** Unlike the TV show, I'm going to endeavor to have: 1. Ryan show up and have a talking role. 2. Let them make out and acknowledge that the sex is real. 3. Not just usher him in last minute for a friendly gay advice and to kiss Nate's forehead.  
>  **MORE NOTES:** I'm still lost on the surname for Indra &Callie, fam, help a girl out.

In hindsight, he should have seen this coming given the scene at breakfast this morning, which conveniently rolls behind his eyes as Raven Reyes sits down next to him, as if his life is nothing if not a contrived movie plot. From some romcom from the nineties, probably. 

There he was, enjoying his toast and watching Indra skim over his fifteen-page long essay on Columbus Day, when O had come into the kitchen. 

“This is fifteen pages, I asked for ten,” his foster-mother murmured, and Bellamy humed, taking another bite of toast.

“The five extra pages are citations.” 

“You little shit.”

There was a laugh that they shared, amused and fond in equal terms, reminding Bellamy that it was quite possible to feel at home again even when you’ve lost the very person who defined home for you for sixteen years. Indra and he, especially, had trouble adapting to the new arrangement at the start, given her position as the principal of his school, but they’d both come to the very adult conclusion that they could separate the professional from the personal life once out the door every school-day morning. 

“You should give it to Cage to read,” he suggested, and passed O the toast basket before she could ask. 

“I might just,” Indra had mused, amused, and put the essay in her purse. 

“So, Bellamy,” Octavia had interrupted, and given him a cheery grin. As though they hadn’t had a fight the day before, as though she hadn’t thrown in his face that she hated him, that he had no authority, that he was definitely not mom. 

Bellamy forgave, as usually happened with Octavia, and listened. 

“What do you usually look for in a girl? For a date?”

And there he’d been, thinking that his sister would apologize, but no, she was adamant about this whole plan. What scared him wasn’t that she would be dating, it was that she could potentially date trolls like Murphy, who only took and destroyed, and were only charming when they had that exact purpose in mind. Yes, his sister was old enough and he wouldn’t be able to protect her come next year, with the start of college, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t work hard to keep her the hell away from problematic assholes like Murphy until then. 

“Someone not too short for a Stormtrooper,” he’d answered, eventually, and bit back the grin from making his sister melodramatically groan. 

“You know that sort of nerdy attitude is never gonna get you a date for prom.”

“Fine,” he said, shrugging, “no date, then.”

“Oh my _god!_ ”

“Are we still having this conversation?” Callie had said, stepping into the kitchen to collect her coffee thermos. “Octavia, Indra and I spoke about it last night, and we’ve come to the conclusion to change the condition of our agreement.” 

That had gotten Octavia’s attention, and made her lean forward with a hopeful grin. “Yes?”

“You may date, _as long as_ your brother is.” 

Bellamy grinned behind the rim of his tea mug, and received the wink from Indra with one of his own. They’d realized the loophole in time, good. 

“Well, you might as well sign me into the nunnery now, then.”

“So, are you listening?” Raven Reyes says, cutting the memory down short. 

He nods. “What about my sister?”

Raven is very pretty. He notices this, as she turns to dig into her backpack for something, and the breeze sweeps her hair away from her neck, uncovering an elegant curve, a most interesting patch of skin (a mole just below her hairline, and traces of pink dye on her skin just above the collar of her shirt), and he’s getting very distracted over a neck. Like some vampire, get it together, Bellamy. 

She turns around, still equally pretty from the front as well, in an unapproachable way; like who would dare to touch a supernova like Raven Reyes? Beautiful, yes, but so dangerous that she was best studied from afar. 

She holds out a pink envelope for him to take, which he does after bookmarking his book, and he opens it to find money inside. 

“She’s paid me to date you.” 

He looks up at her abruptly. “What?”

“I didn’t actually say yes, but she dropped this into my locker, because I’m guessing she thinks I’m enough of a delinquent to do it?” 

Migraine. Palpitations. Anger at his sister being a nosy little asshole. What’s her deal?

“What’s her deal with wanting to date so much?” Raven asks.

“She thinks it’ll help her take over the school once our generation graduates,” he murmurs, still a little flabbergasted at his sister actually coming up with… “Is that twenty-five dollars?” To pay Raven Reyes to take him out on a date. 

“I mean, a legit goal,” Raven mutters, “But why the rush? We’ve got like a lot of time between prom and now and yeah, it’s twenty-five, but that’s fifty percent.”

“She’s paying you fifty dollars?” he chokes out. Unbelievable. He feels utterly compromised, entirely embarrassed, and furthermore - furthermore, Raven has a pretty smile, too, and he doesn’t care about dating. 

“I’m not saying I couldn’t use the money, but it just feels wrong to do this, you know? Take money to date you? Rude.” She shrugs. “Besides, she told me that if you date, she gets to date, and the thought of someone like Murphy getting his grubby paws in on that is just…” She gags. 

“Yes, thank you,” he agrees, and they share a smile. He shifts in his seat and hands her the envelope. “Look, I’m very sorry for the trouble O’s caused you. She’s been having a hard couple of years, thinks she can change the world all on her own, just because she read one of my books about the French Revolution…”

“It’s a good intentions, it’s just -- “

“ -- the worst approach? I know. But she’s still fifteen, and _she_ doesn’t seem to be aware of it yet.”

He watches her bite her lower lip, and stare at the money in her hand, and wonders just how much she really _could_ use that money. “A part of me wanted to go through with this just to teach her a lesson about not assuming the worst in people just because of some rumours,” Raven says.

“Rumours like how you went to juvie?”

“ _For a visit_ ,” she points out, and looks away onto the field. 

“The pink is a nice hue,” Bellamy murmurs, feeling guilty for joining in on the gang of people who were eager to think the worst of her. “It really brings out the ugly orange in the football uniforms.”

She lets out a tiny laugh. Below them, just on cue, two members of the football team look up and spot Raven on the bleachers. She flips them the bird; they return the favor. Bellamy can’t help but just be very amused by this girl, and wonder why they’ve never spoken until now. There’s some fire behind her eyes, the likes of many revolutionaries before them, that makes her pull off clever shit like the dye job for _actual_ good causes, and here he’d thought the school was out of clever people. Then, not to mention, there’s the fact that she’s actually talking to him, which not many people have been wont to do since Murphy spread that rumour and forced him to deck him in front of the whole cafeteria two years ago. 

“So you mentioned something about teaching O a lesson?” he asks quietly, his heartbeat peculiarly fast. 

She turns to him, surprised. “Yeah, like...keep the money, tell you about it…”

He shakes his head. “That won’t stop her. She’ll find someone meaner and more likely to swindle her out of fifty bucks a date, and continue to be a pain in the ass to me, if you say no,” he says, because he knows his sister. “She thinks you’ve said yes?”

“Given that she just deposited fifty-percent of the payment, yeah.”

He runs his thumb down the spine of his book, and leans forward a little, hands on his knees. “Keep it, then,” he says. “Keep up the ruse.”

“So we go on a date?”

His pulse is _not_ racing, he’s cool. So chill, and above dating, and he isn’t paying attention to whether or not Raven seems excited at all. “No. And yes? We use the money and go see Star Wars, and then when O inevitably noses in, I’ll tell her it _wasn’t_ a date.”

“Just two people who’re really into Star Wars?” she suggests, smiling at him slowly, as she catches up. 

“Yeah.” 

“It doesn’t make you mad to think we’re cheating her out of money?”

Bellamy shrugs. “Please. She needs one good lesson to know that she can’t just toss around money to advance, politically speaking, or else she’s just gonna end up being the sort of politician I wouldn’t vote for.”

Raven laughs. “That’s a good point. Alright.”

He’s not excited about this, he isn’t wondering which theatre to take her to, and he definitely isn’t thinking about whether or not he should wear his best shirt. _Above it as fuck_.

“Tuesday at seven sound okay?”

“The most unromantic time for a date ever.” They share a smile. “I’ll pick you up.”

Raven lifts her hand. “No, Blake, I’ve seen the car you drive. _I’ll_ pick you up.”

She gets up and leaves, and he watches her instead of continuing reading his book and taking notes, and eating, because the unintentional sway of her hips is exciting. He means distracting. It doesn’t occur to him that he never told her where he lives.

\--

As cool as leaving with that line made her look, she doesn’t really know where he lives, which means that eventually Raven has to go back to see him. The hardship. 

There’s a spring in her step that day, one that makes even Monty comment and call her a little ‘too peppy’. She threatens to never include him in her plots again if he uses that word on her one more time, and the young man (just one year younger than her) smirks and mimics a zipper closing. 

So she’s in a bit of a good mood, okay? She has extra cash to go see the newest Star Wars, which she’s been dying to see on the silver screen rather than illegally downloaded onto her computer, _and_ she seems to have a fellow fan who wants to go with her. If they go on Tuesday, she knows that the theatre will be practically empty; _not_ that she’s expecting them to be clichè and make out, but an empty theatre makes for a better viewing experience. That’s all. 

She retraces her steps during the second break the next day, but he’s not at the bleachers, and she rushes away from there before the coach can spot her and yell. She remembers he takes History, though, and heads professor Cage’s classroom on a pure whim. 

And there she finds him, alone in the classroom, in the middle of a heated debate with the History professor. Cage is holding a rather thick looking stack of papers and waving it at Bellamy, while Bellamy remains standing tall, holding onto _his_ stack of papers. Raven doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but she eavesdrops. 

Since she switched History for another class, she misses out on these epics debate that -- she hears -- usually end up in the principal’s office. It’s her chance to see what, exactly, goes on in Bellamy’s big head. Not that it matter. It’s not like she’s going to date him. 

She’s just curious. 

“Curiosity killed the cat,” comes a voice from behind her, making her jump and duck out of the doorway. 

“Shut up, Miller,” she hisses in his smug face. Of course he’d be here. 

“So, did you ask him out?” he asks, nodding towards the classroom. Of course he remembers that. 

She fights a blush and nods. He lets out a bark of a laugh that forces her to jump and cover his mouth with her hand. He licks it. 

“You’re gross,” she whines, wiping her hand clean on the back of her jeans. “How the hell is someone as gross as you getting laid?”

Nate waggles his eyebrows, cocksure (but perhaps not the best adjective to come up in her head right now). “College students, babe. They think I’m mature for my age.”

“Ryan’s just blinded by the strength of your dick.”

“That too,” Nate says, nodding. He takes a peek into the classroom, where Cage has actually slammed his stack of papers onto his desk, and then looks back at Raven. “So you two are going on a date? I don’t think anyone’s asked him out since I did, two years ago.” 

“And I’m sure he must regret not telling you yes,” Raven drawls, because she doesn’t need the attitude, the sass, _or_ the reminder that she’s putting her hopes on someone who’s potentially in a different league. Wait, who said anything about hopes? She’s not interested. “And anyway, we’re _not_ going on a date. We’re taking Octavia’s money,” she rushes to whisper, “and going to see Star Wars, because it turns out Bellamy Blake is a scheming little shit too, which is lovely.”

“Glad to be of service.”

“Hi, Bellamy,” says Nate. 

“I need your phone number,” says Raven, completely aware that Bellamy is smirking, Nate is fighting another giggle fit, and she is quite potentially blushing. “So you can text me your address. And for plotting reasons.”

Bellamy holds his hand out for her phone, which she deposits in his hand. “I’m saving myself under ‘scheming little shit’, if that’s okay,” he jokes. 

She lets out a laugh, and clears her throat. “Sure.” 

“Well, Cage made me miss recess again, Raven, and I should go to class, so…” 

She gets her phone back, pockets it and nods. “Right. So, stay cool, we’ll talk. Bye.” 

She runs to her next class just as the bell rings. 

\--

“What a dork,” Nate says, as they both watch Raven Reyes rush to her next class. 

“Was I laying it on too thick, do you think?” Bellamy asks, legitimately concerned. Coming up to hear her call him a scheming little shit had been cute, but then he’d just _had_ to pretend like he was cooler than he actually _was_ , and he keeps thinking that that’s the sort of shit Raven would see through right away. Sure, _he_ thinks he sounded pretty smug and nonchalant, but he trusts Nate’s judgement usually to be impartial. 

“I meant her,” his friend (one of his few friends left) mutters, and then grins at him. “Oh my god, you’re both dorks. I’m gonna need popcorn for this whole thing.” 

“Shut up,” he grouses; why did he trust Nate’s judgement? He’s not impartial, he’s an asshole. He wasn’t this much of one back in the days when he’d tried to court Bellamy, but they no longer speak about Nathan Miller, shy soft nerd extraordinaire, not now that he’s cool and out and has a boyfriend who goes to college. Sometimes, he wonders to himself what life would’ve been like if he’d said yes to Miller back then, but instinctually he knows they would’ve imploded, given all the baggage Bellamy was dragging with him and given Nate’s impatience with it most of the time. As a friend, he was a lark to have around; as a boyfriend, he would’ve driven Bellamy up the wall. Either way, that’s over now. 

He follows Raven’s exit with his gaze until he no longer sees her, and shrugs. “She’s not a dork, she’s cool,” he murmurs. 

His friend laughs. “You’re pinning already.”

“Am not.” _Furthermore_ , Nate Miller is a tool. 

Miller throws his arm around Bellamy’s shoulders, which he tolerates without looking around to see how many people are actually laughing behind their hand at him. That was two years ago, he’s changed. He has matured. “We’re not actually going on a date,” he tells Nate. 

“Oh, I know. Raven told me.” They start walking to their next class. “Just out of curiosity, where are you going?”

“To see Star Wars.”

“Mmhmm, when?”

“Tuesday at seven.” 

Nate whistles. “That’ll be one empty theatre.” 

“I said -- “

“Yeah, yeah, you both said,” he drawls, then pulls his arm back so he can do air-quotes at him, “Not a date.” They keep walking, Bellamy foolishly believing the talk is over, when, “Out of more curiosity, were you gonna wear your deep blue v-neck shirt?”

Bellamy pauses. “...yes.” 

“You’re going on a date.” 

\--

Lincoln thinks the new school is pretty okay, for it being the third one he’s been transferred to this year. He has decided not to get his hopes up about finishing the year at Arkadia High, but with the admission to himself he’s also thrown himself into a state of nostalgia already. 

He can list a number of twenty things that he will miss, if he has to pack up and leave again. Some of those things are people, as ridiculous is it sounds. Some of those people are more hurricane than person, and who misses a hurricane? An insane man. 

_I am an insane man_ , he thinks, when Octavia Blake pulls him aside in the hallways again, and his heartbeat skips just a little. 

“Guess what,” she breathes out, and he forgets to tell her that he really isn’t interested in her convoluted plans and her convoluted life, he _just wants to get to Art class_ , again. Instead, he tilts his head, a gesture for her to go on. “They’re going on a date. I just heard Bell and Miller discuss it in the hallway last recess.”

Lincoln offers her a small smile. “Your plan to take over the world is working, Brain.” 

Octavia laughs, and looks up at him with some sort of marvel in her eyes, and Lincoln’s defense mechanism goes _OH, FUCK_. “You’re funny.” 

Oh. Fuck.


	4. ryan has some fortuneteller skills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's funny? Writing Indra and Callie as the foster moms because the cool dynamic between Indra and Octavia in canon, and finding yourself writing Indra as incredibly fond of Bellamy instead. Anyway. The date.   
> I'm gonna end up pulling a Gossip Girl on this story, because I love it so much I am unable to stop writing for it, what? Thank you to **wells-jaha** for providing me with a surname for Indra and Callie, that solved a lot of problems, even if not in this particular chapter.  
>  Anyway, you assholes (know who you are) asked for makeouts, and I gave you makeouts. BUT IT'S FAR FROM OVER.  
>  **warning** : I've been told to put this up here DON'T EAT, DRINK WHILE READING THIS OR READ IT AT WORK. Apparently it's dangerous.

Tuesday evening after work, Indra arrives home with takeout, it being Takeout Tuesday and all. She’s stopped for tacos, so naturally she expects some enthusiasm from the whole gang when she steps into the house and floods it with the scent of ChimichanGus’ Tacos. But no, what she finds is Bellamy coming down the stairs and flashing her a smile, and casually telling her, “I’m going out for a movie tonight.” 

“Oh,” Indra says, wondering how much Callie and Octavia might fight over his tacos and if it’s worth just telling him to take them to go. 

“Yeah, a friend and I are gonna see a movie, she’s picking me up in thirty minutes.” 

Now that draws Indra’s attention for many reasons: friend? Girl? Bellamy hasn’t hung out with people this casually in years, that she knows of. And she knows why, being the principal of his school, but it hurts her to watch him put himself through social isolation. It’s a thrilling thought to think that he’s opening himself up to friends again. 

“Who is it, Clarke?”

And then he says it. Back to her, voice casual: “No. Raven Reyes.”

She drops the car keys. 

“Excuse me for a bit, I have to go,” she says quickly, leaves the tacos bag on the kitchen counter and rushes upstairs to her bedroom. She closes the door behind her, right as Callie walks out of the ensuite bathroom. 

“Hi, honey. Brought tacos?”

“Our problem child is dating Raven Reyes,” she hisses. 

Callie gives her a benign smile. “Octavia?”

“No - _no_ \- Bellamy!”

“That’s nice,” Callie says, making Indra recoil as if betrayed. Because she feels very betrayed. 

“No it is not nice, Calliope, it is very not nice. Raven Reyes sets things on fire -”

“Accidentally, and please don’t use that name it makes me feel so - “

“You’re not old,” she says, then continues, “Raven also covered the football field with foam and dyed it pink, she is - she’s - “

“Didn’t you tell me you once put hair dye in your rival team’s member’s shampoo before a competition, dear?”

“What has that got to do with anything?” she asks, her voice a little bit shrill. No, it’s fine, she’s fine. She groans, not fine. 

“Did Bellamy call it a date?”

“No, but he’s wearing a nice shirt,” she grouses, like that explains everything, because - well, she wore a very nice shirt, the first time she took Callie out for drinks. “I’m going to give him the talk.”

“That’ll keep him a hermit for life, good thinking,” says her wife, chirpily.

“I’m not that traumatising!”

“I know, sweetheart,” she says, and walks over to disarm Indra with a very soft kiss. A pat on the cheek later, she says, “But you’re a lesbian telling an eighteen year old boy about how to use his…” She lifts her index finger suggestively, and Indra becomes traumatized for life. She might cry. 

“Maybe,” Callie adds, guiding her to the bed so she can take off her shoes. “He doesn’t call it a date because it isn’t one, in which case we should simply be glad he’s opening up and making friends again, especially with a promising young girl as Raven Reyes. Did you know that NASA has their eye on her?”

Not helping. Bellamy is going to love that sort of detail. “Have we got any condoms we can give him?” Callie laughs, but it’s not funny. “You don’t get it,” Indra says, seriously, “Those two can never breed, especially not accidentally.” 

“They’re not dogs, Indra. But there’s condoms in -- oh. Oh no.” 

“What? What?”

Callie sits down next to her. “I sure hope it’s not a date now, or else Octavia…”

Indra definitely might cry. 

\--

While waiting for Raven to come pick him up, he fidgets. It’s a bad thing, because he’s supposed to maintain his cool at all costs, so that their ruse works; it’s also not a date, so why is he fidgety? You’d think he’d be better at this at eighteen than he was at sixteen, but given the lack of practice in the middle years, maybe he _is_ a little bit nervous.

“Are you going on a _date_?” asks Octavia, as soon as she comes into the kitchen drawn by the smell of dinner. 

“No,” he says, and leaves it at that.

“Really. Because that’s your prettiest shirt.”

“What _is >_ everyone’s deal with this shirt?” he snaps, feeling a little bit self-conscious about it. It’s a nice shirt, it shows off the fact that he does still go to the gym in the garage in his spare time (which is every other morning, given that he can read and go on the elliptical at the same time), and brings out the dark color of his skin, the contrast his freckles make, and makes his eyes look warmer. But he’s wearing it because it’s a good shirt, that’s literally all. “It’s a shirt. I’m going out for a movie and want to feel good, excuse me for wearing a nice shirt.”

“Wow, methinks, Bellamy,” Octavia teases, smug grin on her face. He panics, she’s not supposed to believe that he’s dating, goddamn it. All the shit he’s dragging Raven along with will be for naught, and he really wants to keep her as his friend. (What if she stops being interested, once in the middle of Blake drama?)

“Well, stop methinking,” he tells her, and grabs his two tacos from the bag, deciding to take them with him. Maybe Raven would like to eat on the way there. They keep well. And if she minds getting food in her car, then they can just eat them outside in the movie theatre parking lot. 

Indra and Callie join them right on time, cutting Octavia’s smug smirk down; she’s way too sassy for a fifteen year old, he’s decided. It needs to stop. ( _I’m turning sixteen in a week, asshole_ , she’d probably tell him, but whatever, she’s fifteen, the end.)

“Bellamy, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

He doesn’t suspect a thing, as he follows Indra into the living room. Callie keeps Octavia busy with a conversation in the kitchen, that should’ve been his first clue. Indra takes a seat on the coffee table and points him to the couch, that should’ve been the second clue. But he unsuspectingly sits down, curious, and finds himself with a handful of condoms. 

“I… _what_...?” he croaks out, not knowing whether to hide or laugh. 

“I think it’s time we had a conversation.”

“Oh god.”

“About what happens, if you don’t use protection.”

Bellamy physically flinches, a full-body shudder, and lets out a tiny groan. “Let me stop you right there.”

“I don’t want mini-Ravens in my house, Bellamy,” Indra rushes to say, and he just flops back against the couch with a deflating laugh. 

“You know I’m eighteen, right?”

“Of course.” Oh, she’s in principal Cartwig mode now. “I don’t presume that you don’t _know_ these things.” 

“You’re about three years too late with this talk, Indra,” he teases, and then adds quietly, “Mom gave it to me.” After his first wet dream. _That_ had been the most traumatizing thing. The memory still doesn’t stop them from sharing a soft smile; Aurora had been Callie’s friend more than Indra’s, but in the years of the courtship, she’d become a pillar of support for his foster mom, and he knows that there are days when Indra remembers his mother and misses her dry jokes, because she looks at him with nostalgia if he makes them. 

They share a quiet moment, with the ghost of Aurora Blake in the room with them, cracking a smile about how awkward they both are. When Bellamy feels overwhelmed by the need to shed a tear, he clears his throat and pockets the condoms. 

“But mine expired, so thanks for these,” he says. 

Indra’s smile falls, for a second, and he lets out a soft laugh. She joins him. “Well, at least you’re a smart kid.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, you’ve got access to my file, you’d know.” 

She moves to sit next to him on the couch. “Do you like this girl, Bell?”

Ah, the softer version of his name in B-minor. Tenderness. He doesn’t have it in him to lie, so he shrugs and says softly, “Yeah.” Raven Reyes is a whirlwind; she’s been in his life fully for three days and he’s already smitten with the way she texts (switching between correct punctuation and spelling and all the emojis), and he knows he wants to get to know her better. “But it’s still not a date,” he adds, and maybe it’s the tone of disappointment that makes Indra drop it, but she does. 

She covers his forearm with her hand and squeezes, nudging against him with her shoulder. “You have fun tonight, kiddo. You’ve earned that much, it’s about time.” 

He doesn’t get to thank her, but he thinks she knows. 

\--

She texts him her arrival, because they’re supposed to make this look as little as possible like a date. She parks her car down the street from the driveway of his home, phone GPS telling her she’s right where she wanted to be, and steps out of the car. 

Since this isn’t a date, but a ruse to teach Octavia a lesson about buying people’s services like this, and putting her brother through this especially, she had no reason to show up dressed up nice. They’re going to see Star Wars with a bunch of nerds like them and likely some kids too, it’s the most unromantic setting. Besides, Bellamy isn’t interested (in her; in girls). Inexplicably, however, she still makes an effort, beyond the skinny jeans that fit her very nicely. 

When he steps outside and comes down to meet her at the car, his innocent greeting smile falters and she feels a rush of triumph at seeing him visibly swallow. 

That’s interesting. 

“Indra bought home tacos, I grabbed one for each but didn’t know if you liked them,” he says by way of greeting. 

She snorts softly. “Tacos are fine, but I’m not hungry right now.” Her stomach is in knots, she wouldn’t be able to handle a single bite. 

“After the movie, then?” 

If they eat the tacos but say they went to dinner, then she gets to pocket the change. She grins at him, and nods, before opening the car door for him. “My lady,” she says, inviting him inside with a flourish. 

He walks up, stops when he’s right in front of her, and lets her have a moment to think that he wears that shirt so well, her throat is dry, what the fuck. Then he smiles. “Cute.” 

She walks around the car to the driver’s seat on jelly legs. 

Driving calms her down a little bit, makes her feel more normal about being in the car with an unnaturally pretty boy; seriously, his face should be considered criminal, has he seen himself? She hasn’t gotten this poetic over someone’s face in years, and it’s wildly different than the last boy’s she liked. Hopefully more of him turns out to be different than that boy, because she ended a little bit done with boys after Finn. 

But, again, this isn’t a date and he’s not interested. 

“Sorry, I keep going back on you mentioning Indra?” she says, to break the ice. 

“My foster mom.” His other mother is her favourite professor, but that’s not what makes her crack out laughing. 

“Oh boy, she would _not_ like me dating you.”

“Oh, no kidding,” he says. And then, turning sideways in his seat, he proceeds to tell her in loving detail how Indra Cartwig tried to give him the talk and ended up giving him condoms, while Raven enjoys the story with laughter and tears in her eyes. 

All the while, she tries very hard not to think about the fact that he’s got condoms on him; then, she tries hard not to think of anything hard. 

\--

Again, not a vampire, but he’s slowly developping an unhealthy obsession with Raven’s skin. He blames the crop top, and thanks the fashion industry (for once) for this trend, because she has a very kissable stomach and he can’t stop glancing down at it. It gets worse, the muscles tighten when she laughs, and she laughs a lot around him, which he likes. 

It gets even worse. He stands behind her in line to buy tickets for the seven-thirty show, and makes the mistake of glancing down at her ass. The clouds disperse, the light of god shines on him, and his skin feels suddenly exfoliated and pure. Raven Reyes looks _good_. 

If he gets a boner over this, he’s going to leave the country. 

“Well, well, well, what a coincidence.” 

His stomach drops, and the voice is enough to make his arousal disappear, given that it’s attached to a very smug looking face. 

“What are you doing here, Miller?” asks Raven, in his name. 

“I love Star Wars,” Nate says. Nate does not love Star Wars, this much Bellamy knows. But right on cue, his boyfriend pops up behind him, carrying to servings of popcorn, and _Ryan_ likes Star Wars. 

“Oh, hey Bellamy,” says Ryan, with an honest smile. Probably the only sincere person in this group. 

“Hey,” he says back, and steps out from behind Raven because they’re not here on a date and he doesn’t need to cover her back. (There’s an image.) ( _Stop thinking_.) “Didn’t know you were in town,” he croaks out.

Ryan opens his mouth to say something, but it’s Miller who interrupts with a loud, “Oh yeah, he’s been visiting this week!” Ryan’s look says that this is a lie, but everyone goes with it. “We thought to come catch a movie and some time away from dad. He’s getting nosier in his old age.”

“He’s like forty,” Raven points out. 

“Super old,” Nate repeats, pointedly, and then wraps his arm around Ryan’s waist. 

“So you two are here to see Star Wars too?” Ryan asks, looking between the two of them with another sincere smile. “I didn’t know you two were friends. Nate does talk about you all the ti -- ow.” 

Nate extracts his arm from around Ryan’s waist before anyone can point out that they saw him pinch the poor man, and takes the popcorn from him. “Come on, babe, this is still a date,” he drawls, and then looks pointedly at Bellamy with a grin, “And I got my popcorn.” 

“Think we should get popcorn,” mutters Raven to herself, while Bellamy plots ways to dispose of Nate’s body come Monday morning. 

“Yeah, let’s get some,” he eventually says, and places his hand on the small of her (very bare, very warm) lower back, guiding her towards the snack stand. 

\--

“Well?” 

Ryan tilts his head watching the two of them walk away, and then turns back to Nate. He sighs, “Yep. That’s a date.” 

Nate bursts out laughing with insane glee, which makes Ryan remember that it’s shit like this that attracted him to the man in the first place. He looks dangerous, but he’s some incurable romantic at heart. And he writes some excellent erotic poetry, but that’s besides the point. 

“They’re never gonna admit it though,” says Nate, after he’s had his fill of laughing. By this time, they’re seated in their seats, a few rows above where Bellamy and Raven are taking theirs. “Shame.” 

Ryan watches Bellamy get up to rush down the stairs and out of the room for something (drinks, he guesses), and catches the way Raven’s gaze follows him like a hungry hawk. 

“I don’t know,” he tells Nate. “I give them to the end of the night to end up making out in the backseat of the car.”

\--

It’s a testament to the quality of the movie that she can focus on it, despite feeling each time their hands reach for popcorn at the same time like a tiny shock. They exit the movie theatre still discussing their favorite parts of the movie, and pointing out the parts they hated to find out with glee that they share opinions on almost everything. 

Raven’s having such a good time on this not-a-date that it doesn’t strike as relevant that this might be the first time she’s gone out with even a friend in about a year or so. But she’s starving for it, and drives back to his place at an insanely slow pace, because she wants the night to last.

Bellamy tells her to park the car a few streets away from his home, and takes out the tacos. 

They eat. They keep talking about how cool Rey is, and how amazing and necessary a character like Finn was, and how it’s about damn time that the girl is the lead. He says that, not her, and she falls in love a little bit with his mind. 

“I had a good time,” she says, slipping. “On our not date.” 

They share a smile, before he ducks his gaze and picks at his taco a little bit. Neither of them are very hungry, she can tell. “Yeah, it’s been a while since I had this much fun.” 

She feels a rush of tenderness for him at that, and a wave of protectiveness; why hasn’t he felt good in a while? She thinks he deserves that much. 

_Back up, Raven, come on._ Her heart races, and she bites her lower lip as if that’ll help. She misses the way he looks at her when he does that, too busy wrapping the taco back up and leaving it on the backseat of the car. 

“Hey, listen,” she murmurs, because she’s curious about this, since they’re now partners in crime. “Tell me if I’m being nosy, but why would your sister try to fix you up with girls? Doesn’t she know? Aren’t you out?”

Bellamy gives her a very confused look, before it dawns on him what she’s asking, and he looks hurt. “You heard Murphy, huh?”

“Yeah,” she confesses, “But I paid less attention to him when he was sixteen than I do now.” He’d spread the rumour, claiming to have facts to go with said rumour, and soon the whole school had known; that was back in the year when Nate hadn’t made coming out a no-big-deal normalized sort of thing. If she remembers it well, it hit Bellamy twice as hard probably because his mother had passed away that year. Everyone had known about _that_ , since the principal took him aside to tell him during P.E. class. 

She feels guilty now, for breaking the mood with this question, “Sorry, it’s just that it feels weird that she’d try to find you a beard when she could just - “

“I’m not gay, Raven,” he says softly. 

“You’re not?”

He shakes his head, wraps up the taco again and shrugs. “Bi as hell, though.”

Oh. “Oh.” She grins, suddenly. “Oh! Me too!”

“Yeah, I figured from the way you drooled when Rey showed up on screen,” he jokes. 

“I did _not_ drool,” she protests, having the decency to look guilty. She had definitely drooled a little bit. It feels better when Bellamy laughs about it. 

“I’m guessing that eliminates the question of whether or not it’d bother you,” he says, his smile a little vulnerable, and it hits Raven like a freight train.

“Were you scared that it would?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, a little? I haven’t liked someone in a while, and you’re so…”

She reaches over and covers his hand with hers, looking at him wide-eyed and with her heart thumping loudly in her chest. “You like me?” 

“Sort of. Yeah. Yes,” he murmurs, gaze slipping down to her lips, and making Raven feel hot under her clothes. Oh, wow, how did she miss that? “So much that it sort of defeats the purpose of this fake date.” 

She takes a deep breath. “I’m sure we’ll figure that out.” And with a quick move, she unfastens her seatbelt and climbs over the gear shift to get in his lap. Her head almost touches the roof of the car, and by the way he looks up at her like he’s just landed with a miracle in his lap, she is suddenly glad they parked far from his house. 

“I sort of like you too,” she murmurs, “In case there were doubts.” 

“No doubts,” he quips, a little awkward and boyishly, but fuck if that doesn’t make him look cuter. So she kisses him. 

Or he kisses her. 

They rush to meet each other in the middle, lips soft and yielding, but the kiss deep and long and lingering. She hasn’t been kissed in a long time; it feels like neither has he. She also hasn’t been touched in a long time, which is why she moans against his mouth when he draws his hand down her back, skin against skin. 

She tries to grind against him, remembers that he has condoms and feels another rush of pleasure at the thought, then he lets out a soft laugh against her lips. Groans, defeated, and pulls back to rest his head against the headrest of his seat, looking devastatingly hot in his dishevelled state. 

“What?” she asks.

“It’s kind of a tight space.” 

She looks behind him, and grins. “There’s always the backseat.”

Which is where they end up, after a few maneuvers to climb into it without getting out of the car. He cleverly kills the engine before joining her, the thoughtfulness towards her car making her swoon a little bit. 

“This is a really nice shirt,” she tells him, in lieu of absolutely nothing, pushing her hands under his shirt and touching the skin on his back. 

He kisses her neck, and shivers. “Thank you. It’s my date shirt. Don’t tell anyone.” She lets out a laugh, which he turns into a breathless little moan with the swipe of his tongue up the side of her neck, finishing her off with a kiss just beneath her earlobe. 

She actually whimpers, she wants him so much, but ultimately she remembers what neighbourhood they’re in and what the plan was tonight, and pulls away with a groan. “Wait, wait, wait,” she whispers, and he stops to look at her. “Are we still teaching your sister a lesson?”

He thinks about it, while rubbing a circle with his thumb over her stomach, in a surprisingly tender move. “Yeah. Would you be okay with that?”

She would. It’s not like she needs to be paraded around the school on his arm now to know that he likes her. He’s pressing the very proof of that against her thigh, so. Yeah. “Yeah, sure.” She licks her lips, “But I probably shouldn’t drop you off looking like you’ve just been super well fucked.” He groans, and drops his head to her shoulder, making her laugh. “Poor boy.” 

“Shut up,” he mutters, and bites her shoulder through her shirt. He’s fun. Wow, is he fun. 

“I also kind of...wouldn’t mind taking this slow?” she ventures to admit, biting her lower lip as she waits for his reaction. 

Bellamy pulls back, kisses her cheek, says “Okay,” and takes a seat beside her on the backseat of her car. They catch their breaths in silence, for a moment, the world shifting back into focus. 

“Oh, wow.” The windows of her car are fucking _steamed up_. 

“Wow is right,” he agrees, and pulls her in for a sideways hug. She lets her head rest on his shoulder, and reaches over him to draw a circle on the window. 

\--

In the end, he asks Raven to drop him off there, and walks home taking a longer detour, just to clear his head. His knees are still shaky, and all he did was touch her stomach and back and kiss her neck. And that mouth, the wonderful mouth on her. 

Being turned on by Raven Reyes turns out to be devastatingly easy. She’s gorgeous, she has moves, she takes what she wants and shows him without a sign of impatience on her; ridiculous as he may be, it’s her brain that he liked first. The fire behind her eyes. The wit on her, the kindness - only a kind person would look out for his sister like that, and tell him the truth of her plot right off the bat - and the brutal honesty. Had he stayed in that car longer, had she asked more, he would’ve told her everything about himself. The drama from two years ago, how he misses his mom, how he loves his foster moms and sister, how he has bigger plans than teaching history, despite his passion for it. 

Liking Raven Reyes, as a person and as the girl he gets to make out with, that’s even easier. 

It should concern him, but it doesn’t. 

After half an hour of walking, he finally steps back into the house, feeling lighter and - strangely - happy. 

It doesn’t last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, there is No Such Thing as too soon for makeouts in the Ravenbell fandom, the end.


	5. he touched a boob (his sister doesn't need to know about that)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which everyone thinks they're cooler than they actually are, and Bellamy remembers fondly how he fondled a boob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY about the break between chapter 4 and 5; turns out planning to move, moving to London and hunting for jobs with your partner DOESN'T leave a lot of time to spend writing. Or inspiration. But I think we're good on inspiration again, because as I wrote this I kept giggling and finding myself insanely charming.

It hits him very suddenly that he’s going to have to lie his ass off if he wants Octavia to believe she’s lost this game of matchmaking him, which is hard. It’s hard, because as soon as he steps inside, feeling light and happy and like someone made out with him pretty damn hard (and hot, and heavy, and he’s not twelve but he’s getting a giddy feeling all over because he touched a boob at one point), there’s Octavia.

Rushing into the hallway, out of breath, then letting out a gasp. Her eyes widen, and she points at him, his fucking melodramatic sister. 

“Were you on a _date_?”

Goodbye, light and happy. 

He thinks of the hardest book he’s had to read for Cage’s class, and uses that resentment to modulate his voice when he answers her a clear, rotund: “No.”

“Bullshit!”

“Octavia!” shouts Callie from the living room, without raising her gaze up from her book. 

“ _Bullshit,_ ” Octavia whispers at Bellamy, squinting at him in accusation, like she can smell it on him. Jesus, perish the thought. (He touched a boob. His baby sister doesn’t need to know this.) “Mooooooms!” she continues, twirling around and bouncing towards the living room. “Bellamy went on a date! You know what this means?”

“More premature white hairs,” supplies Indra dryly, walking by Bellamy at that exact moment carrying a tray with what he assumes is tea, from the smell. 

Bellamy wonders who picked up the melodrama from whom. With a dramatically loud sigh, he takes his shoes off and joins everyone in the living room, to proceed with his plan of teaching Octavia a lesson and hopefully swindling another date with Raven out of it. Money -- he means money for a date.

“Don’t start sending out word to the minister yet,” he drawls, ignoring Indra’s shudder, and takes a seat in the empty corner of the couch. “Because it wasn’t, as I have said before, a date.”

“That’s a shame, sweetie,” says Callie, leaning over to kiss his cheek in consolation. “Cover your hickey before she sees,” she whispers into his ear, and pulls away with an impeccable poker face while Bellamy does as he was told.

When did Raven get at his neck? Jesus. (Does he get extra credit for not getting a hard-on when he remembers?)

“It’s not a shame,” Bellamy carries on, non-pulsed. “Because it was never meant to be a date, we just went to see a movie together.” 

“Well, that solves that,” Indra is quick to chirp, after exchanging a quiet look with Callie. He notices Callie touches her neck and Indra goes stiff and sounds chirpier than usual (which is little). “Want some dinner leftovers?”

“No, thanks, we had like a tub of popcorn,” he says, offhandedly, while fishing out his phone. He’s going to text Raven and tell her what just happened. Octavia gasps in a choked way, like she’s just figured out how much this might cost her to make it all happen. So, helpfully, he adds, “Each.”

\--

“You’re _bringing me to ruin_ ,” is what Octavia Blake tells Raven that morning, slamming her locker door and narrowly missing Raven’s finger. However much she might like her brother (and she does), she still glares hard enough at Octavia for that stunt that the younger girl cowers, for like a second. 

In a chilled voice, she asks, “Pardon?” 

“I hired you to date him,” Octavia says, recovering quickly. She grabs Raven’s arm, and promptly lets go when Raven just raises one eyebrow at her. Octavia clears her throat. “I hired you to date him, so why doesn’t he think it was a date?” 

Somehow, and someone can judge her for this, she doesn’t care, she suddenly understands _why_ Bellamy’s decided to troll his sister instead of just telling her he knows. So of course, Raven plays along. 

“Seduction takes time,” she drawls, shrugging casually, like this isn’t new to her. (It’s only semi-new. She hasn’t dated someone in a long time, and hadn’t been planning on it, but she’s pretty sure she’d like to try seeing Bellamy again.) "And research."

Octavia shudders, presumably at the thought of Raven seducing her brother -- which: serves her right -- and looks around to make sure no-one can hear. “Yeah, well, speed it up. Prom’s coming closer and I have plans.”

“You don’t even have a date,” Raven reminds her, because she knows. 

“ _Whatever_ , mom.” Oh, the eye-rolling - there’s the family resemblance, Raven notices with some affection. “I _would_ , if you just did your job right.” 

The eyebrow comes up again, and a second later, Raven holds out her hand. Wiggles her fingers. “You still owe me half of my wages.” 

“Financial ruin,” Octavia mutters, “both of you are my financial ruin.” 

“Politics aren’t cheap.” 

“You two already share a brain, I don’t get how you can’t just date and let me live?”

That’s cute. But she’s still pulling some dirty tricks just to get ahead in the popularity race, and she’s not being very nice. Not to Raven, not to her brother either. Plus, that was the deal; keep this up so Octavia stays away from people the likes of Murphy, and other assholes. 

Raven checks her watch. “I’ve got class. If I find another envelope when I come back,” she drawls, giving Octavia a look, “We’ll talk.” 

She leaves. 

An hour later, she comes to find another envelope with money in her locker, and a letter to go with it. _DO YOUR RESEARCH_. 

\--

Nate Miller is having the best day. He’s been having a great week, to be fair, entertaining things all around. There’s the fact that Ryan is visiting, which is of course great because of the sex, but also the cuddles that he’s hard-pressed to admit he loves, in public anyway. 

But mostly it’s the Shakespeare play happening in real life, in front of his very eyes, between Bellamy and Raven. 

He really appreciates the way the roles are reversed, of course; who knew that the story would work just as well with a man playing the role of the shrew? He also really appreciates how none of the parties involved seem to be aware of this. 

One of the things that he swore to himself he’d never become, when he and Ryan stayed together even after he’d graduated high school one year ago, was to never turn into one of those meddlers. Who lives vicariously through their single friends, who meddles constantly and tries to stir shit just so they can have dinner _and_ a show. It’s just that _it’s so much fun_. 

“You’re friends with Bellamy, right?” Raven asks him, while they’re in class waiting for the professor to show up. 

(So much fun!)

“We dabble in friendship, yes,” Nate answers, casually. 

“Do you think he’d like going to a concert?”

Nate almost jumps in his seat excitedly - this is it, the part where she tentatively tries to find out what Bellamy likes and falls in love - he recovers very quickly and relaxes into a practiced-to-perfection sprawl, arm over the back of his chair. “Depends on the concert? He’s not big on loud and crowded places.” He holds his breath for a second. “You can try a poetry slam instead. This club I go to holds one every Wednesday, and Thursday there’s live music just before the slam. He’s a nerd, he’d like that.” Plus, it’s his turn on the mic this Thursday, and Ryan can’t make it, not that he needs support!

Raven lets out a hum, like she’s both considering it and thinks poetry is for losers. 

“So are you asking him out on another date?” he asks, leaning in to whisper the words conspiratorially. 

“No. Just thinking of ways to spend some money I’m going to come into.” 

He tilts his head. Lets the words sink, tries to think of it from Bellamy’s perspective as well as Raven’s, considers the fact that they are both two trolls, secretly, and the conclusion is reached easily from there. 

“Wait, are you two swindling Octavia out of the money?” 

Raven smirks and opens her book. 

Nate laughs. “ _Plot twist_!”

\--

For all the texting they’ve been doing since last night, meeting up on the bleachers after class, alone, suddenly feels shy and awkward. Raven comes in second, finds him waiting for her already with a book in his hands and a cute pair of glasses helping him read without squinting. She thinks he looks more handsome than ever, which is probably problematic, but god - he’s pretty. 

He smiles at her, a slow and shy little smile, and her heart jumps a little. Unintentionally, she smiles right back at him, and starts walking towards him without acknowledging that he’s so pretty he made her stop in her track. 

“Hi,” she says as a greeting. 

“Hi,” he says, smiling in a way that makes her remember last night in her car. 

They stare at each other like this for a moment, her standing on a step below him, and him sitting with his back leaning against the step above. The breeze ruffles his curly hair again, the sunlight hitting her from behind glaring in his eyes and making him squint up at her just a bit. Shit, she really likes him. 

They start laughing at the same time, and Raven finally takes a seat. 

“Octavia grilled you last night, huh?” she asks, once they’ve settled, her sitting next to him and watching her pink field with pride. 

“Did she come after you today?”

“Mm.” She glances at him through the corner of her eyes. “Told me to do my research better, so…” 

“Yes?”

She turns to face him. “Is everyone in your family a nerd?”

Bellamy grins. “I’m the coolest of them.” 

Raven laughs. “I’m sure you are.”

They smile at each other, and she feels his fingers brush over her knuckles casually. It makes her cheeks burn a little bit, but she goes ahead and takes his hand anyway, threading their fingers together. He strokes circles around the knuckle of her thumb, hypnotizing circles, whose sensation travels upwards along her back and makes her feel warm and pleased all over. She has to go in ten minutes, today she works in Jacapo’s garage, but she wishes she could keep this moment going forever. 

Slowly, after what feels like a hundred circles, Bellamy closes his book and sets it aside, uncaring about how he forgets to bookmark it, and reaches up with that hand to sweep his thumb along the curve of her jaw. Raven follows the ascent of his hand with baited breath, and holds it even as his hand travels to cup her cheek. She holds her breath until he pulls her in, and she goes, she goes so easily, and closes her eyes halfway there, before their lips meet. When they do, the kiss is chaste and brief, but his lips are so full and delicious that she lets out a small sigh. 

They break apart gently. 

He says, “Hi.” And sweeps his thumb affectionately over the high of her cheekbone. 

Her heart skips a beat, and she says, “Wanna come to a poetry slam with me?”

\--

Ryan has books to keep him busy on the road back to campus, usually, but today he’s busy with an essay that’s due a day from now. He took a risk coming back to see Nate for a few days, though he’s so cute when he gets a new hobby and pretends that he’s still cool, so how could he have resisted? 

He has half the arguments written down, when his phone vibrates and he opens the text window to find a picture of Bellamy and Raven, sitting together on the bleachers of his old school and looking at each other like they’ve hung up the stars.

Nate’s sent him a text to go with it. 

_they’re already in love and i hate them they’re fucking cute  
i need to change high schools, CLEARLY, and find cooler friends_

Ryan doesn’t bother hiding his endeared smile. Texts his boyfriend back with, _babe, you were never cool_ , and carries on with his essay.


	6. equal footing while you're on cloud nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although most people should believe otherwise, Bellamy is fairly certain that he and Raven are dating. 
> 
> His palms are sweaty as he waits outside his car for her to finish her shift, because apparently Raven is so cool that she works part-time shifts in her father’s auto shop, and it doesn’t hit him how cool until he sees that all the cars in the shop are expensive vintage models. He respects her a lot, at this point, but this is also the moment when he starts feeling like he’s lucky to even be around her, because come on, look at her. Rolling out from under an old Aston Martin (isn’t that Jaha’s car?) with engine grease on her fingers and a satisfied smirk on her face, she’s a vision in that blue mechanic’s onesie that seems to swallow her up. She’s just so cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warning** : homophobia, alcoholic parents, vague hints at abuse, underaged sex, Murphy being an asshole, implied sexual content and a lot of references to Bellamy's boner for Raven, which makes this fic now have an **M-rating**. Congratulations, assholes, you're gonna end up making me write you porn even for the purest comedic gold I've come up with. Hope you're happy. 
> 
> This chapter means a lot to me and took longer to write, because it's the most serious of the bunch. Here we find out what happened between Bellamy and Murphy, and more about Raven's past as well, with a cameo mention to Finn and all. Take the content warnings seriously, I don't want anyone to feel hurt or bad reading this. Remember, i'm a sucker for happy endings, and happy middles and happy beginnings, so things will only get better.

Although most people should believe otherwise, Bellamy is fairly certain that he and Raven are dating.

His palms are sweaty as he waits outside his car for her to finish her shift, because apparently Raven is so cool that she works part-time shifts in her father’s auto shop, and it doesn’t hit him how cool until he sees that all the cars in the shop are expensive vintage models. He respects her a lot, at this point, but this is also the moment when he starts feeling like he’s lucky to even be around her, because come on, look at her. Rolling out from under an old Aston Martin (isn’t that Jaha’s car?) with engine grease on her fingers and a satisfied smirk on her face, she’s a vision in that blue mechanic’s onesie that seems to swallow her up. She’s just so cool.

“Hey, you’re early!” she says to him as greeting, grinning at him so enthusiastically that Bellamy doesn’t really want to tell her that he’s actually right on time, and she’s in fact late. She has a smudge of grease on her chin, and he’s suddenly a fan of grease, and mechanics.

“Uhm,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “Slam starts in twenty, actually…”

Her eyes go so wide they look huge, comically huge, like she’s some cartoon princess; it’s cute. “Holy shit, I’m late! Let me go wash up, I’ll be right back, hey, have you ever met Jacapo?” she quickfires, on her way to the lavatory already, or the locker room or whatever, leaving Bellamy standing there, looking like a hurricane’s just gone over him, picked him up and spat him out, and put him right in front of her father.

“You must be Bellamy,” says Jacapo Sinclair, holding out a hand.

Bellamy braces for the inevitable, shakes his hand and smiles through the obligatory menacing grip. “Hi.”

 "Mmmhmm.”

Well, he’s clearly been found lacking of whatever Jacapo was looking for, but that’s okay; he gets to keep his fingers and regains feeling in his hand after only a few seconds.

 “How was Star Wars?”

He wonders if Raven told her dad that it was a date. “Pretty damn awesome, actually,” he goes on to say, sticking his hands inside his pockets awkwardly. “A lot of good-natured fun and some nostalgia, plus the special effects are like...whoah.”

Sinclair scrutinizes him some more and then smiles. “Has she mentioned she wants to build her own Falcon one day?”

Bellamy laughs. “She hasn’t but if anyone would manage, it’d be Raven.”

The smile falls from Sinclair’s face. “Yeah. So you better be good for her.”

“Yessir.”

Raven comes back at this exact moment to throw her arm around Sinclair’s shoulder, looking great and clean and pretty as usual, but more relaxed than at school. “What did we say about threatening guys for me?” she sing-songs at her dad, grinning as he rolls his eyes and sighs.

Together then intone: “Not the ones I like.”

“Exactly,” says Raven, glancing up at Bellamy with a grin. She presses a kiss to Sinclair’s cheek; the man melts a little, and Bellamy thinks _I feel you, buddy_. “I’ll be back after dinner, don’t wait up. And don’t worry, Bellamy’s driving, and he’s a turtle.” She laughs.

They leave.

A few steps outside the shop, Bellamy recovers. “I’m not a turtle?”

She turns around and walks backwards to the car, defiant and smiling. “Yeah? Then how come you’re so slow to kiss me again?”

He makes out with Raven against the door of his car. She presses herself against him and he presses her against the car, and swallows her soft moans. It’s pretty fucking awesome.

He is distracted during the entire poetry slam session. Too bad for Miller.

\--

On the way to the show, Raven sees a nice looking restaurant that serves takeaway, and that’s where they go for dinner. They split a large serving of fries drowning in ketchup and homemade veggie-burgers that turn out to be surprisingly more delicious than expected.

There’s a nice parking lot that overlooks the city if you park your car on the top level, and that’s where they go to eat, just them and the sky and the city and the trunk of his car to seat them. Or serve as something to lean up against.

“You know, this is going to be hard to talk up as a platonic outing to your sister.”

“Are you saying it’s a nice date?”

Raven lets out a laugh, “That’s cute.”

She steals an extra fry and stuffs it in her mouth, veggie burger down to its last bite. It’s nice and quiet here, and they don’t have to pretend like it’s not a date.

“How come half the school gives you a wide berth?” she asks, possibly ruining the mood but for the fact that she’s impatient and curious to know.

He finishes his burger first, shrugs after swallowing. “I was sort of outed back in the day when the school wasn’t ready for it. And I wasn’t ready for it, and I lashed out.”

Raven’s eyebrows raise; outed against his will? “What do you mean sort of?”

Bellamy twirls a fry around the ketchup goop and sighs. “Well, the person who spread the rumor got it wrong and told everyone I’m gay, but the damage was done.”

She remembers. He was a popular guy, hung out with jocks and intellectuals alike, and then one day, there was a chill in the air whenever those groups met. She’s not sure why, friends would stick by you during these times, right?

“Two years ago you may remember there was a different football coach? He didn’t exactly like the idea of one of his players being gay, so he made sure to make me feel unwelcomed to the point that I had to drop out of the team.”

She reaches out and stays his hand still, because he’s been picking a french fry appart with his fingers for a while now and it doesn’t look like he likes doing this. “You don’t have to tell me,” she murmurs, giving him that option. After all, they’ve only shared one dastardly plot and a couple of great makeouts together, why would he want to open up to her?

“I know,” he says quietly, “But I feel like I can, with you, you know?” Raven nods. “And I want to.” She nods again. He nods to her, and lowers his gaze before continuing. “It just didn’t come at the right time at all. Mom had passed away a couple of months before, I was still coping and O was...she was a mess. I kept thinking, my sister can’t find out like this. And I got mad. No more scholarship meant likely no college, and this from the guy that I made the mistake of trusting… So...I beat him up. My friends, they didn’t have the whole story, just what he’d told them, because I’m not that great at sharing these things, and they sided with him. I got the cold shoulder for a while, and by the time they came around and apologized…”

Pride, Raven has found, can break apart bonds easier and faster than anything. “It was too little too late?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t flinch when she reaches out and covers his hand with hers, only lets her sweep her thumb over his knuckles and seems to relax into the touch; it’s a relief.

“I’m grateful you told me, really,” she murmurs, and Bellamy nods.

“I didn’t want you to find out in another way, you know? It feels important that you know some stuff, because I just -- it would suck, if you stopped talking to me.”

There’s that flutter again. Raven smiles,kindly. “Hey, I’m never against punching Murphy in the face.”

He looks surprised. “How did you-”

“Have you heard the way you talk about him? It doesn’t take a genius, Bellamy, and I _am_ one. How did he figure out, a little bit of bros being no homo action?”

He looks disgusted, and she feels horrible for the joke, but he nods.

“You deserve someone better. _And hotter_ , might I add. But generally, yeah, less of an asshole. Terrible taste in men - god, I hope we don’t share that.”

He lets out a laugh and pulls her closer. “You’re an asshole.”

“A bit,” she laughs softly, and licks her fingers clean before patting his chest. “You’re sure you’re okay with me knowing?”

He presses his forehead against hers and nods. For someone so tall, for a fraction of a second he feels small and vulnerable in her arms, and she unashamedly coddles him like she hasn’t had the chance to care for someone in years now. No matter what comes after this, she thinks, she’s going to take care of Bellamy; he’s under her wing now.

Horrible pun not intended. 

\--

It’s incredible how bad he’s already got it, if even after burgers and fries he still think Raven smells nice, tastes even better. When he kisses her, closing the small distance between them with a nudge of his nose against hers first, it’s with some amount of trepidation. His skin feels scrubbed raw, every nervous termination on the edge, waiting to see what she’ll do.

Flight or fight? Horrible pun not intended.

He hasn’t opened up to anyone about this since it happened, not to anyone his age anyway. Nate knows details because he’s a busybody, and Indra knows the story because she’s the principal of his school and his foster mom; at home, there’s never been pressure to stay closeted, nor to come out, just because Callie and Indra have it so great. Honestly speaking, even if his mom had lived, she wouldn’t have minded either. But after Murphy had made a spectacle of his private life, he’d closed ranks and become even more private.

Put into perspective now, his decision to ostracize himself from his former group of friends had been just that, _his_ decision. They would’ve understood, if he’d told them the reason he lashed out at Murphy was a deep feeling of betrayal that dug its claws into him, and shame, a heap of shame, and fear that it would get back to O before it was time for her to know. If he’d stopped to explain this to either of them - well, maybe to Wells; he’d always been the one Bellamy had connected with the most in the group - maybe they would’ve recanted and apologized for calling him violent and hot-headed.

But he hadn’t. He hadn’t wanted to, because two years ago social exile felt better and safer and _quieter_ than the endless repetition of pitiful looks and pitiful shoulder pats and pitiful sorry-for-your-losses.

Like Raven’s said: too little, too late, either way.

As he brings their soft, chaste kiss to a lingering end, he muses that without all the pain that came before, he wouldn’t have met her, or talked to her, or gotten to do this. Be here with her, feeling like they were the only two people on the earth and god, fuck, _damn_ , he’s got it so bad.

It’s scary, but in two dates, he’s opened up more to Raven Reyes than he has in two years to his foster moms and even to his sister. The trepidation comes back, the subtle fear of her reaction never quite leaving him.

Will she call him ridiculous? Judge him for what he did? Will she take advantage of how vulnerable he’s left himself with her now, or will she just leave it be?

Raven opens her eyes, looks at him softly and with kindness that she doesn’t often expose at school, and licks her lips before smiling.

“You should ask me,” she says.

Dumbfounded, he asks: “Ask you what?”

“Why there are rumours circulating that I went to juvie.”

He startles; of course, she’d choose to just treasure the vulnerability and share as well, bring them to equal grounds. If he could go back in time to all those moments in which he’d read a book and scoffed at the implausibility of people falling in love in under two days, he’d slap himself on the back of his head and snort at his own ingenuity.

“That’s your decision to share, Raven,” he says instead, and hugs him just so he has something to do with his hands.

“A childhood friend of mine ended up in there,” she murmurs, against his shirt, and with a gentle push she pulls away to talk about it openly. “Finn’s been sort of my partner in crime for as long as I could remember. When my mother drank herself to death, the day after the funeral, he had this brilliant idea of hot-wiring a car and the two of us taking it for a joyride, and I just went with it. I needed to do something reckless, the likes of which Rosa would’ve never.” There’s a pained expression that crosses her face, and he wishes he could carry the weight of that burden with her.

Aurora never told them in great detail about Bellamy’s father, but there were times when he heard her spoke of him when he knew what kind of category he fell into, so Bellamy had never thought to look for him; life had been fine and enough, with just his mother and sister. It becomes clear now, that he - that his mom -- got out of it easy. Raven lived with it, until it was no more.

“I know a little about reckless behaviour after the loss of a parent,” he murmurs, and she cracks a bitter smile.

“Trust me, a big part of me - the biggest part, really - would’ve loved for the solution to all my problems to be making out with Finn, but that never happened. Instead, we got pulled over while I was trying to teach him how to drive stick, and he got sent to juvie for two weeks, to make an example of him.”

“Two weeks?” That’s the shortest example he’s heard of.

Raven shrugs. “He’s very white and very middle class.”

“Ah.”

They share a smile smile, the bitter smile of people who know what the weight feels like, how it pulls you down and makes you angry at the same time. It makes sense, he thinks, that she’s so loud in her fight against injustice and discrimination. “So your juvie visits…” he starts, and she picks it up.

“Were just that, visits. Two weeks, while he was there, as often as they’d let me. Until his mom got him a lawyer to get him out, and the family packed up and moved to a state where the record wouldn’t count.”

“When was this?” _How long have you been alone?_

“Three years ago.”

There’s that shrug again, like she’s pretending that it doesn’t hurt now, but he knows it does. He knows, because she’s pushed everyone away just like he did, only longer. There’s a small detail that comes to mind now, and he wonders: “Wait, so Sinclair is-”

“Foster dad, yeah,” she says, and this smile they share means _I know, right? Two peas, one pod._ “He’s trying to adopt me before I turn eighteen, but I don’t know - I won’t mind if it happened even later, he’s my family. He’s been more of a dad and a mom to me that my own, I’d - “

“Go to war for him?”

She grins. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Impulsively, because he understands, he leans in and kisses her forehead. Thanks her, for sharing and for letting him share. Raven kisses his lips to thank him back, he believes, and shivers. Like she’s taken a weight off her heart with this, which he understands because it pulls a shiver out of him too.

“Let’s get in the car,” she says quietly, and pulls him into the back of the car because it’s gonna be like that.

The door is barely even closed behind him when she tugs him on top of her and crushes her mouth to his. Her hands, surprisingly warm, slip up under his shirt again, nails digging in and making him rock his hips forward against hers, when it feels so nice, shit, so nice.

“Nice shirt,” she says against his lips, “Date shirt?”

He lets out a laugh against the corner of her mouth, and pulls the neckline of her shirt down to leave a hickey at the top of her collarbone. “I just have nice shirts.”

“Right.”

Their laughter, easy after all the tension, is what makes him hard and hot under his clothes. Their laughter, the way she touches him, and the hand she slips between them to cup him over his pants.

“Wow, you don’t mess around,” he groans out, and she lets out a laugh.

“Look, you know I like you. Let’s not pretend like this isn’t on the table.”

 _It’s actually in your hand right now,_ he wants to say, but instead of that, he just unbuttons her jeans and pushes his hand inside her underwear with his gaze on her face, capturing every micro-expression and storing it for posterity. He finds heaven between her legs, slippery silky heaven. Her moan fills up the entire car, and makes his ego grow twice its size.

“Ladies first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Please feed me and my ego reviews, it's how I pop out chapters faster.   
> 2\. **akzseinga** DID A BEAUTIFUL THING and now this fic has [A GRAPHIC](http://imperatorreyes.tumblr.com/post/152086512891/10-things-i-sort-of-dislike-about-you-because), go reblog to share the love.


End file.
